


hero of his own story

by Spikedluv



Series: hero of his own story [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Claiming, Come Marking, Community: rounds_of_kink, Community: trope_bingo, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not of Peter or Chris, Pre-Series, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: “Why are you here? We agreed that me leaving was the only way to keep you and your family safe.”“Is that what we did?” Peter said in that sugary sweet tone that never failed to set Chris’s teeth on edge.In which Gerard gives Chris an ultimatum: break things off with Peter and he’ll leave the Hales alone, and Peter doesn’t take it lying down.





	hero of his own story

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place pre-series. This is a different take on my Peter/Chris headcanon in which Peter doesn’t let Chris walk away. Character death. (Not Peter or Chris.)
> 
> Written for Round 32 of [Rounds of Kink](http://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/) for the prompt: _Teen Wolf, Peter Hale/Chris Argent, Gerard forced them apart once; Peter's not going to let it happen a second time (pre-series); Claiming, come-marking, tattoos._ I’m also using this story to fill the _Bite Mark/Bruise_ square on my card for Round 10 of [Trope Bingo on DW](http://trope_bingo.dreamwidth.org).
> 
> Posted: April 12, 2018

Chris pulled the truck to a stop outside the motel room he currently called home. He left the engine running and didn’t make any move to get out. The transaction had gone well. Gerard would be pleased, but Chris couldn’t work up any emotion besides the slightest sense of satisfaction.

Chris rested his forehead against the cold faux-leather plastic of the steering wheel in the space between his hands, fingers curled around it in a white-knuckled grip. He took a few deep breaths and sat up straight. Since the only other option was to spend the night right here in his truck (driving back to Beacon Hills being out of the question), Chris keyed off the engine and got out of the truck.

Chris made sure the doors were locked before heading to his room. Something moved in the corner of his eye. Chris reached for the gun holstered at the small of his back beneath his jacket, but he was too slow. There was a low growl and Chris was slammed into the side of the truck, his shoulders bent back over the hood.

Chris’s initial surge of adrenaline settled in his groin when he recognized the growl and the press of a familiar body against his. Chris dropped his hand from the grip. “Peter, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Looking for something I lost,” Peter said. “And it’s a good thing. What have I told you about being aware of your surroundings?” Peter lowered his head to press his nose to Chris’s throat. “You’ve got to be more careful; there are monsters out there.”

Chris huffed out a humorless laugh that he hoped covered his body’s reaction to Peter’s proximity. “Were you spotted?”

Peter raised his head and gave Chris a disappointed look.

“Gerard probably has people watching me,” Chris explained.

“He did,” Peter said. “Fortunately there was a report of a ‘wild animal’ a couple towns over, and since they were the closest hunters, they were sent to investigate.”

Chris let out a sigh of relief. “You still shouldn’t be here.”

“But since I am,” Peter said smoothly, “why don’t you invite me in.”

Frustrated with Peter’s lack of self-preservation, Chris pushed at Peter’s shoulders. Peter only moved because he wanted to, which irritated Chris even more. “Will you leave if I don’t?”

“I think you know me better than that, Christopher.”

Chris sighed. He got the room key out of his pocket and opened the door. Chris left the door open and made sure the curtains were pulled all the way before he turned on a light. When he turned back Peter was lounging in the open doorway as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Chris grabbed Peter by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the room. “Get in here before someone sees you.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Peter said, seemingly unruffled by Chris’s manhandling and unfazed at the prospect of being spotted in Chris’s room. Or anywhere near Chris.

Chris made sure the door was locked and placed a chair under the knob just to be safe. He took off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the remaining chair (rickety enough that the jacket might be too much for it to handle) just to have something to do. Chris gripped the back of the chair. “Why are you here? We agreed that me leaving was the only way to keep you and your family safe.”

“Is that what we did?” Peter said in that sugary sweet tone that never failed to set Chris’s teeth on edge.

Chris closed his eyes and lowered his head. He should’ve known that Peter’s acquiescence to Chris’s decision in the face of Gerard’s ultimatum was too good to be true. When Chris raised his head Peter was standing right beside him.

“I’m not going to let Gerard take away what’s mine,” Peter said in a low, seductive tone.

Chris shook his head. “I’m not a possession, Peter.”

Peter’s name came out high and breathy when Peter placed his hand on Chris’s hip, unerringly finding the tattoo hidden beneath the denim.

“This says differently,” Peter said.

Chris had been so foolish when he’d gotten the tattoo, promising himself and Peter something he should’ve known he couldn’t deliver on. Chris swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. He tried one more time. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“There’s no place else I should be,” Peter said. The light caress of his hand over Chris’s hip felt like a brand. Peter reached out with his other hand and Chris allowed himself to be drawn into Peter’s arms.

“Gerard is going to kill you,” Chris said, his arms going around Peter. It had only been three weeks since he’d told Peter about Gerard’s ultimatum slash threat (that he’d leave the Hales alone if Chris agreed to break things off with Peter), and left Beacon Hills, but he’d missed being held in Peter’s arms, knowing there was someone stronger than he, a bigger monster to protect him from the monster Gerard was trying to turn him into. “He’s going to kill your entire family while I’m helpless to stop him.”

“Not if I kill him first,” Peter said. The words were spoken low, a soft brush of Peter’s lips against Chris’s skin, and they sounded more like a promise than a threat.

“Peter . . .”

“Shh,” Peter said, pressing a kiss to Chris’s throat. “I’ve taken care of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Peter nipped at Chris’s jaw. “Why do you think it took me three weeks to come after you?”

Chris put a hand up between them to prevent Peter from pressing their lips together. “So when you say ‘taken care of’ . . . ?”

“I’ve come up with a plan to get you away from Gerard.”

Chris went stiff. That wasn’t possible because Gerard would never let him go. Still, he had to ask. “How?”

“You’re going to disappear,” Peter said, obviously pleased with his own cleverness. “It’s going to be very tragic.”

“What?”

“But that’s for later,” Peter said, going on as if Chris hadn’t spoken. “Now I’m going to finish what we started and make sure no one can take you away from me ever again.”

Chris wanted to say something about Peter being overconfident and getting ahead of himself, but he was just so damned glad to see Peter again (against his better judgment) that he couldn’t bring himself to form the words.

“Why don’t we start by getting you naked?” Peter purred.

Chris ignored the tiny voice in the back of his brain that was trying to remind him why this was such a bad idea, why Peter should be as far away from him as possible. Chris pulled at Peter’s clothes while Peter’s skillful hands divested Chris of his.

The smell of mold, the rough texture of the threadbare carpet, the chipped paint on the walls and the loud colors of the garish print hanging above the bed disappeared when Peter lowered Chris onto the mattress and followed him down. Their tongues danced together, hands sliding over bared skin, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies. Chris had thought he’d given this up forever – the taste of Peter, the possessive slide of his hand, the feel of him pressed against Chris from chest to where their legs were entangled.

Peter pulled away just enough to kiss a slow path down Chris’s chest and stomach. Just when Chris thought Peter would put his mouth where Chris needed it, Peter detoured to touch his lips to the tattoo. He pressed his thumb against the spot, and though it had healed long ago, Chris felt an answering ache.

Chris moaned softly as Peter’s tongue traced the curved lines of the triskelion, the symbol of the Hale family with Chris’s and Peter’s initials woven into the spirals. He tugged at Peter’s hair and raised his hips in a desperate bid for friction. Peter lifted his head and flipped Chris over, denying him attention where he needed it most.

“On your knees,” Peter commanded, his breath feathering over Chris’s ass.

“Oh, no, Peter,” Chris protested. “I haven’t . . .”

Peter didn’t wait to hear the rest of Chris’s objection. He spread Chris’s ass cheeks and pressed his face between them. Peter lapped at Chris’s hole, then wiggled his tongue over the puckered skin before stabbing it inside him.

Chris struggled to get his knees under him while electric shocks zinged through his body as Peter ate out his ass. Peter added one finger, then two, pressing them into Chris beside his tongue. Chris shuddered when Peter’s fingers found his prostate and he nearly missed Peter asking if he had any lube.

“Why would I have lube?” Chris said, trying for irritated, but mostly sounding aroused.

“Good thing I came prepared,” Peter said casually, and pushed into Chris with a slick cock.

Chris groaned at the stretch. Peter didn’t ask if Chris was okay, but he ran soothing hands down Chris’s sides and paused for him to adjust. When Chris relaxed Peter grasped his hips and thrust into him. Slow at first, as if Peter was savoring the sensation of Chris’s ass gripping his cock, then faster.

Chris reached beneath him for his own cock, but Peter batted his hand away with a growl. “No touching,” Peter said. “Just take it.”

Chris whined in protest, but he knew better than to put his complaint into words. The last time he’d objected to not being able to touch himself, Peter had tied him to the bed and brought him to the edge half a dozen times before finally allowing him to come.

Chris’s cock drooled a trail of pre-come against his stomach as Peter fucked into him hard enough to set it bobbing. He dug his fingers into the bedding so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for himself again, the sheets coming looser at the corners as each thrust drove him forward.

Chris didn’t know how long Peter fucked him, distracted as he was by his own aching cock, but Peter’s hips finally stuttered as he lost the rhythm. Peter went tense and grunted. The first spurt of release filled Chris’s ass. Peter pulled out before the second, which sprayed Chris’s hole and dribbled down his balls. The third and fourth spilled warm across Chris’s ass and lower back.

Chris’s arms trembled; he was so close. As if he’d read Chris’s mind (or just knew Chris’s body so well), Peter reached beneath him and squeezed the base of his cock. “Not yet.”

“Oh fuck you,” Chris said with more resignation than heat.

Peter’s chuckle was a tad breathless, which was gratifying at least. He pressed a kiss to Chris’s shoulder blade while his other hand spread his come across Chris’s skin, marking him.

“Seriously?” Chris said, the words turning to a keen when Peter shoved three fingers inside him and rubbed his prostate until Chris was writhing between his hands, between the desperate desire to come and the complete inability to do so.

Peter withdrew his fingers and released Chris’s cock. He flipped Chris onto his back and, before Chris could recover, wrapped his fingers around the base of Chris’s cock in a vise once more. Peter leaned down and suckled the head of Chris’s cock, the tip of his tongue dipping into the slit to lick out every last drop of pre-come that had bubbled up before Peter cut off the flow.

Peter finally released Chris. He slid up Chris’s body and kissed him. Chris licked the bitter taste of himself out of Peter’s mouth and tried to pull Peter down so he could rub off against him. Peter dragged his lips to Chris’s throat, nuzzling and licking as his hand played with Chris’s balls, and then began to slowly jack his cock.

Chris moaned eagerly at the thought that his release was near. Peter grazed his teeth across Chris’s skin and Chris pushed up into Peter’s hand. Peter closed blunt teeth on Chris’s neck and laved the spot after. He sucked and nibbled at Chris’s skin as his hand slowly drew Chris closer to the edge.

“Do you want me to stop?” Peter said against Chris’s throat.

Chris absolutely did not want Peter to stop. “No! Don’t stop. Please.”

Peter licked Chris’s throat and tightened his hand. Peter twisted his wrist and Chris mewled, arched up into Peter’s touch. Chris’s entire body went taut and his cock pulsed, emptying his balls over Peter’s hand and his own stomach. Peter bit down on Chris’s neck, hard. Chris tried to scream, but his cock pulsed again, and then everything went black.

~*~

Chris paced the cabin. It had been three days since Peter had left him there. The place was stocked with food and some of Chris’s favorite authors, but he hated not knowing what was going on outside the cabin. There was no internet or television; not even a battery operated radio. Chris was not afraid to admit that he was getting worried. Peter had claimed that he had everything under control, but what if something had happened to him?

When Chris had woken up with come drying on his skin and the newly formed tether that now connected him to Peter (Chris couldn’t tell if it was mental, or physical, or spiritual, or a little bit of all three), they’d showered and put Peter’s plan into motion. Chris’s truck had been left on the side of the road, the driver’s side window shot out and a little bit of Chris’s blood staining the leather seats. His phone had been left on and hooked to the charger. As soon as it became clear that he was neither in his room nor answering his phone, Gerard’s men would track the phone and discover the truck.

Peter had driven Chris to this remote cabin and returned to Beacon Hills in order to throw Gerard off the scent that Peter had anything to do with Chris’s disappearance. Only after Peter left did Chris realize that Peter hadn’t divulged the rest of his plan past squirreling Chris away. It hadn’t helped that they’d argued about Peter biting Chris without his consent most of the way to the cabin, until Chris had fallen asleep.

Peter had been unrepentant. He seemed to think that telling Chris that he was going to finish what they’d started with the tattoo, and that he was going to make sure no one could take him away again, had been enough notice of his intention. He insisted that he’d even asked Chris if he wanted him to stop right before he bit him. Of course Chris had said no because he’d thought Peter was talking about letting him come.

Chris reached up and touched the spot on his neck. If he concentrated Chris could feel Peter’s presence, which was soothing, and his self-satisfaction at the claim, which was not. Chris did have to admit that knowing Peter was still alive and not being tortured somewhere was a positive side-effect of the claiming bite.

At the sound of tires on the overgrown and rutted path Peter had called a driveway, Chris grabbed a shotgun off the rack beside the door. He let out a sigh of relief when he recognized Peter in the rental, which Peter had obtained under a fake name. Chris agreed that leaving the easily identified Camaro in Beacon Hills had been a good idea.

Chris opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Peter grabbed a shopping bag and a newspaper out of the back seat and walked up the front steps. He indicated the shotgun with a tilt of his chin. “Is that for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Does that mean you’re still mad at me?”

“Yes,” Chris said, though he wasn’t sure if he really was anymore. He curled his arm around Peter’s neck and kissed him.

Before Peter could deepen the kiss, Chris released him and led the way back into the cabin. Peter followed and set his purchases on the kitchen table.

Chris returned the shotgun to the rack. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“It should probably take me a couple of days to find you for it to be believable,” Peter said.

“Find me?” Chris said. “I thought we were both going to disappear, or something. What, you think Gerard is going to be so grateful you found me that he’ll let us be together?” Peter didn’t respond, so Chris watched him put the fresh meat and vegetables into the small refrigerator that was powered by a gas generator. “What’s this?”

Peter’s shoulders went stiff and he didn’t bother turning his head. “News from Beacon Hills,” he said with a casualness that was clearly faked.

Chris approached the table and glanced at the front page. He pulled out a chair and sat heavily. Chris drew the paper closer so he could read more than the headline ( _Area Man Killed in Fatal Car Crash – heart attack to blame_ ) to make sure he hadn’t jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Peter, what did you do?”

“I did what I had to,” Peter said defensively. “To protect you, me, and my family.”

“Did you kill Gerard?”

“Are you asking if I’m legally culpable or technically responsible?” Peter said.

Chris threw the paper down on the table, which wasn’t as satisfying as he’d expected. “Don’t play word games with me.”

“I never touched him,” Peter said. “But I did engineer his death.”

“Why?” Chris said.

“You know why,” Peter snapped.

“If you’d just stayed away . . .” Chris started.

“Don’t be naive,” Peter said. “You know your father never would’ve left us alone. If it wasn’t because of you and me, it would’ve been some other excuse. He stepped over the line every chance he got because he knew no one would stop him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do it just for you and me. Talia is being trained to be the Alpha, and I’m going to be her left hand. This is what I do. I get my hands dirty so you, and she, don’t have to.”

“I didn’t want you to do this,” Chris said, but he knew that Peter was right – Gerard never would’ve let this go. He would have bided his time and cut the Hales down when they least expected it. The fact that they were werewolves would’ve been enough, but add to that the fact that one of them had dared to _taint_ his son, well, they’d need to be taught a lesson. Still, Peter had killed his father, and for that Chris felt guilty. Not because he felt responsible, but because he didn’t care like a son should at the death of his father.

“Tell me how . . . what happened,” Chris said.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Peter wasn’t being sarcastic, Chris knew, but protective. He nodded his head anyway. “Yes.”

“Gerard swerved to miss hitting a wild animal,” Peter said.

Chris raised his eyebrows. “You?”

Peter shrugged. “His truck hit a tree. While he was trapped I took great pleasure in telling him that I had taken you away from him. That I’d claimed you and he was never getting you back. You’d have thought I told him you’d been turned,” Peter said thoughtfully, recalling it. He shook himself out of the memory. “It was all too much for his heart, sadly,” Peter said without a trace of sadness.

“Peter . . .” Chris didn’t know what he was going to say.

“We’re free,” Peter said.

Chris shook his head. “We’ll never be free. They’ll know it was you, or it won’t matter if it wasn’t you, they’ll punish you anyway.”

“Unfortunately,” Peter said, “your family is going to be very busy explaining the weapons Gerard had in the truck with him.”

“Hunters have long memories.”

“Do you really think that anyone but Gerard knew about us? That he would’ve told anyone how you betrayed the hunter code by sleeping with the enemy? It would’ve made him a laughing stock, at least by his own standards. Our secret is safe.”

“It won’t be a secret for long,” Chris said, hand absently going to the invisible mark on his neck.

“After your terrible experience, you’re going to be so grateful to me for finding you, and have a change of heart, realizing that not all werewolves are monsters. You’ll create a new code and a new generation of hunters that don’t believe that the only good werewolf is a dead werewolf. It’ll be a fitting legacy for your father.”

“You really did think this all the way through, didn’t you?” Chris said. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

“Yes,” Peter said, “but I must admit that it didn’t all come together over the course of a few weeks.”

“What do you mean?”

“I started planning for this eventuality from the first moment I realized I wanted you.”

“That’s positively Machiavellian.”

Peter dipped his head in a truncated bow, as if Chris had just paid him a huge compliment. Maybe he had.

“We have three days to kill,” Peter said. “How would you like to spend them?”

“I should probably spend them grieving for my father.”

“That sounds boring,” Peter said.

“A man died!” Chris said, more because he thought he should feel _something_.

“The same man who threatened to kill my entire family if we didn’t stop seeing each other. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”

“He was my father.”

“He was a piss poor one,” Peter said. “You deserve better. We can share mine.”

Chris huffed a laugh because it was either laugh or cry. “How did we get here?”

“We got here because we fell in love,” Peter said. “And I’d do anything to protect you and my family. I guess you have to decide whether you can live with that.”

“And what if I can’t?” Chris mused.

Peter hid his emotions behind a neutral expression. “At least you, my family, are safe.”

Chris knew he should be horrified that Peter had killed for him, but he’d been raised to be a killer himself. Gerard called Peter a monster, and the hunters that killed werewolves heroes. Then again, they said that every villain is the hero of his own story. Could Chris see Peter as the hero of their story?

The other option would be . . . what? Leave Peter and ignore what they were to each other? Unless he wanted the hunters to go after Peter, Chris would have to learn to live with what Peter had done. The question was, did he want to do that with or without Peter by his side?

“What happens when we get back to Beacon Hills?” Chris said.

Peter smirked, but it didn’t quite hide the relief in his eyes. “I’m more interested in what happens when I get you naked.”

“Peter,” Chris protested, but he allowed Peter to draw him into his arms. Let Peter kiss him, and lower him onto the mattress in the corner. He’d worry about the future later.

~*~

Much later, when Kate complained about Chris being such a stickler for the Code, Chris had to admit that Peter had been right about him training the next generation of hunter. And when she questioned Chris as to why he was with Peter, a werewolf, he said, “Because not all werewolves are monsters,” and, “Because he saved me.”

Chris didn’t tell her how.

The End


End file.
